On Monday the 22nd my dad passed away.
I still can't believe its real. It seems like a bad dream.
Since this is my scrapbook and journal that I put into books for posterity... here is what I want to remember...
On the Friday before we had gone to Costco together. He had wanted a blood pressure monitor they had on their web site. I'd felt bad because I needed a few things and made him walk all over the store with me. He was in good enough health to do it, but I still felt bad making him walk so much. At least I got to see him in good health one last time, and he got to see Ash and Em one last time.
I talked to him on Saturday day and he said he was tired. He'd done a bunch of stuff that morning and I told him he'd probably wore himself out and to go take a nap. He said he was going to.
On Saturday night Brandon called me to say he was at Davis Hospital. Dad had been in horrible pain and unable to move, so they ended up taking him by ambulance there. I'm still attached to the baby (he's breastfeeding), and I didn't want to take him there, so I told Brand to update me as soon as they knew anything.
Davis diagnosed him with a kidney stone. Pretty minor. Brandon called LDS to see if they wanted to see him and they said yes, when he's stable have him transferred up here. Thank God he did that. Brand figured he was in good hands and left him with my mom.
At LDS they not only didn't find a kidney stone, but Davis's report that came with him didn't mention it. LDS found pneumonia. They admitted him to ICU right away. This was in the middle of the night. In the morning this had gotten progressively worse. They had to put in a breathing tube to help relieve some of the stress of the body because his heart was having a hard time pumping.
I immediately went to the hospital. He was covered in IVs, had a breathing tube, and a feeding tube in his nose. It was horrific to see him covered in tubes, but he was awake and could write things down for us since he couldn't talk. I ran back and forth between the hospital and home to feed the baby all day. Nothing had changed and he was hanging in there, so about nine I went home to feed the baby and decided to sleep for a minute. As I was climbing in bed Brand texted me and said come right now. That's it. No explanation... just come.
The panic was instant. I couldn't think. I got dressed and ran out the door. Showed Tom where I had some formula for emergencies. Called Brand as soon as I was in the car and he said Dad had gone into cardiac arrest (his heart had stopped). They had gotten it started again, but he was non-responsive. In a coma.
We spent the rest of the night huddled around his bed. He had two more cardiac arrests... the third one took 23 minutes to restart his heart. This was about 1:30 Monday morning. We were all in shock and mostly sobbing.
The docs said most people come out of the coma in a day. After that the chances are pretty slim, but if they don't by three days then it pretty much isn't going to happen. They will need the machines to live forever.
His favorite doc came by late Monday. He filled us in on the bad news. We were at the 24 hour mark and he was still in a coma. And the worst part was that he had tested his neural responses and found none. Meaning the cardiac arrests had taken their toll on his brain and he was severely brain damaged. {Something my subconscious knew after 23 minutes of CPR... I just didn't want to face it.}
Then came the hard part... what did we want to do? We could wait another few days and see if he came out of the coma, but he would not be himself, or have any type of normal life. Anyone who knows my dad knows this is not an option. He was already upset he couldn't function at full speed and he was still able to drive and function pretty normally.
Another option was to wait for another cardiac arrest and order them not to revive him.
The last option was to pull the machines keeping him alive.
Far and away the hardest choice to make. The answer was obvious, but impossible to make. We all agreed. Pull the machines and see what happens. I secretly hoped he'd just be fine, but my mind knew better. Luckily my dad's family who lives around here was also there at the time, so we pulled them in and they agreed.
I called Tom and let him know it was going to happen and he said he was on his way. We called my uncle to give him one last blessing.
The tech pulled the dialysis machine (it was functioning for his kidneys). They said we would have a few hours at this point, but his heart immediately started dropping. This was before any of the medicine was stopped. My dad was ready. He didn't even make it another half hour. My uncle and Tom both missed him. I think he was pissed and ready to go.
The rest is a blur. Prayers. Goodbyes. Tears.
I still can't believe it. I drove past an old man painting his railing on his porch and thought "my dad will never get to enjoy being retired, and puttering around like that. How unfair."
It all just seems so unfair. Such a good guy. His dad had said he was "one of the last of the good ones" before he died last year. It's true. I can't imagine the rest of my life without him.
Ash wanted to know if Grandpa took an airplane to get to heaven. I hope he's there relaxing and enjoying things. Chatting with grandpa. Talking about Ash and Em with Tom's dad. Maybe puttering around like he would down here if he got the chance to retire and relax. I hope so.
